My Henry: four unlikely years later and the world remains resoundingly
full of you, my sweet, so-loved, so-missed boy, in spite of the empty, gaping
void you have left so far behind. I still find the heres, theres and
everywheres of ordinary life can be turned instantly extra-ordinary at the singular
thought of you. And here I go, uncertainly stepping into another year which
should more properly have belonged to you.
Ohhhhh boy, my boy… This, written with love that burns as
bright and fierce and sad as ever.
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